


Why can't I be you?

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: There is a number of small things [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Polyjuice Potion, Slytherin, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:32:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This all started as a joke.  </p><p>It was an insane idea. Crack pot at best.</p><p>And yet, here we are…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why can't I be you?

**Author's Note:**

> My spin on a joint effort between me and my lovely Theodore Nott muse. 
> 
> Enjoy. :)

This all started with a simple conversation; a joke not meant to be taken seriously at the time, but had ended up that way all the same. Draco had made a comment in passing, a simple line of song lyric that had blossomed into a fully functioning idea.  _Why can’t I be you?_  It was harmless enough in theory, but then Theodore just had to spin it in a way that only he could and before either of them knew what was happening, they were discussing Polyjuice potion and suggestively detailing what they might do if given half a chance in the other’s body.

It was an insane idea.  _Crack_  pot  _at best_.

And yet, here we are…

 

**The night before-**

_“It looks ready to me.”_  Theodore’s voice came from over Draco’s shoulder and he rolled his eyes, lips twitching in fond amusement at the other’s impatience.  “Potion brewing is an artful science, Theodore. I thought you of all people could appreciate that.” Draco glanced up to peer at Theodore in the bathroom mirror from beneath flaxen lashes, the flickering light from the candles that were burning in various places around the room casting half of his profile in shadows. Draco continued to watch Theodore as he gently stirred the cauldron in a series of slow motion counter-clockwise movements and he didn’t fail to see things like  _desire_ and  _curiosity_ , which he knew was mirrored in his own eyes. Theodore wasn’t far off, the potion nearly  _was_  ready, it just needed a few more precise stirs.

Theodore’s fingers walked over Draco’s bare spine slowly as they stood there; Draco curating the potion and Theodore watching to make sure he didn’t fuck it up. Potion brewing had always been a cathartic hobby for Draco; being in Professor Snape’s favor back at school wasn’t the only reason he’d aced Potions class. He had a natural talent for brewing, even if he didn’t utilize it nearly enough these days and was probably more than a little rusty. This particular potion had taken a month to brew and came at a huge risk. Polyjuice wasn’t exactly on the list of safe and legal potions after the war, and despite his reluctance to do time in Azkaban, he had readily agreed to the idea.

“There.” Draco straightened up and smirked smugly into the mirror, slate gaze glinting mischievously at Theodore’s reflection. He turned around in the other’s grasp and dropped a quick kiss to waiting lips, the inviting warmth momentarily distracting him from the task at hand. When they parted Draco’s skin was flushed a faint pink and he smiled, head shaking lightly.  “Are we ready?” He arched a brow at Theodore and watched him for any signs of uncertainty—there were none.  _“Give me that body.”_  Was his response and Draco’s mouth curled into a wicked grin. “You just can’t wait to get inside of me, can you?”  He turned back to the softly bubbling cauldron as he spoke; he made quick work of pouring out two champagne flutes of the potion as Theodore came around to stand beside him. “Care to do the honors?” Draco turned to face him holding the pair of glasses, watching him intently as he stepped closer to Draco, slowly reaching up to curl fingers around the back of his neck.  Theodore’s lips pressed against his gently and as he parted them slowly his fingers twisted in the soft hair at Draco’s nape. He caught Draco’s bottom lip between his teeth in the next moment and the mirroring jolt of minor pain quickened Draco’s pulse.

 _“Perfect.”_  Theodore remarked as he pulled away, several of Draco’s fine blond hairs caught between his fingers. Draco would have commented on the fact that they actually only needed a  _single_  hair, but thought better of it. Theodore reached up with his other hand and quickly plucked out one of his own hairs and Draco watched as he dropped one into each flute.

The pair watched as the potions began to swirl and change; Draco’s instantly turning jet black before easing nicely into a rich brown that either one could deny looked a lot like coffee. Theodore’s seamlessly morphed into an ashy copper color, and if Draco had to take a guess, he’d say that it was going to taste just like chocolate and cigarettes. 

Theodore plucked the Draco-glass out of his grasp and held it up and Draco could only smirk at the salacious grin the other man proudly displayed.  _“Bottoms up.”_  He murmured, clinking his glass against Draco’s before raising it to his lips.  Draco licked his own lips as he raised the glass, his gaze never leaving Theodore’s as they both drained their glasses in quick succession.

_Here goes nothing._

“Fuck-Fuck-FUCK!” Draco was doubled over with broken glass at his feet and he was pretty sure he was dying. He’d read about how potentially painful Polyjuice could be, but fucking hell this really  **was**  painful. Every cell he possessed was on absolute fucking fire and he didn’t realize until after the fact that it was due to all of Theodore’s tattoos being etched into his skin all at once. When he straightened up he was staring at himself, which was mildly alarming when there was no mirror in front of you.  “Merlin, I’m gorgeous.” Draco smirked at the image of himself and reached up to wipe the back of a still-stinging and heavily tattooed hand across his mouth.  _“Mmm. I don’t understand why you bother to get dressed at all, really.”_  It took him a moment to acclimate to the situation—Watching yourself when it’s not really you is an extremely odd thing. Draco wanted to reach out and touch himself; marvel at the flawless rendering that was standing before him. His gaze lifted to the mirror and his mouth slackened slightly at the image of Theodore Nott staring back at him.   “This is stranger than that time my father tried to spend quality time with me.” Draco reached up and pressed fingertips,  _Theodore’s_ fingertips, into the supple flesh covering his cheekbones— _Theodore’s_ cheekbones.  He leaned closer to the mirror and proceeded to pull and poke at the Theodore mask that he wore with endless interest.

 _“Are you going to stand there and fondle my body all night? We didn’t have to waste the potion if that’s the case.”_  Draco’s gaze snapped back to Theodore and he arched a brow, lips twitching.  “Are you mocking me?”  _“Well I **am**  wearing your body, I might as well act the part.”_  Theodore flashed him a grin that was frighteningly smug and Draco could only snort out a shaky laugh.  He tilted his head back and peered at the other man, brow arching sharply. “You can’t handle being me.” The words were little more than a quiet murmur but Theodore had heard them and taken them for what they were.   _“Watch me.”_ Was his only response and after that, everything was a blur.

It took exactly three seconds for Theodore to get to Draco and shove him against the bathroom wall, caging him effectively with splayed palms either side his head. The crunch of broken glass beneath their feet was hardly registered and Draco’s breath was all but knocked out of him as his spine met the wall with surprising force.  His hands grappled at Theodore’s bare arms and chest, which did little to anchor him to the here and now. Teeth and tongue assaulted him everywhere at once and his head thudded painfully against the wall as his back arched away from it. In a fleeting handful of moments Draco emotional range had gone from bewildered to desperate to frantic and it didn’t fucking matter to him so long as it didn’t stop.   _Never stop._

Theodore had become a reckless and beautiful creature beneath Draco’s skin and Draco quickly became accustomed to the idea of kissing himself, even liked it a little bit. His fingers curled into Theodore’s skin— _His_  skin, and left marks in their wake. A soft groan escaped him as teeth clamped down on the pulse in his throat and his eyes fluttered briefly closed, lost in sensation. There were fingers working the front of the jeans he had worn at the other’s request and only then did he realize how painfully tight they were.  _How in the hell did Theodore breathe in these things?_  Theodore expertly popped the button fly and Draco impatiently attempted to wiggle out of the restricting material, a string of expletives falling out of his mouth.  “How can you stand wearing these things? They’re like a fucking prison.” Draco glared at Theodore through fallen sections of dark hair, hissing sharply through gritted teeth as warm fingertips brushed against his hardened flesh—Just enough friction to be positively maddening. 

 _“Shut up.”_  Was the only response he was gifted with before his mouth was taken captive; assaulted in painfully arousing ways that clouded his thoughts and blurred his vision. Draco fumbled with the fly of the jeans that Theodore also wore, which, when he thought about it, was completely unfair. Why the hell were they both in jeans? There was a moment that passed between them where everything stilled around them. They stared at one another openly and understanding shifted between them—Never had Draco understood something or someone as wholly and unfiltered as he had in that fleeting moment.  They may have reversed their roles for the evening, but nothing would ever strip them of who they were. This was a fun and exciting game, but at the end of the day it was only a game. Draco knew the intention behind Theodore’s actions just as he knew his own, and he accepted it openly. No matter what mask either of them wore, they would always find their way beyond it. There was only one person in this world that was capable of peeling back Draco’s mask and revealing what was underneath. One person.  _One._

It was right here, this exact moment, when everything changed. Draco found himself pinned more firmly against the wall, Theodore’s knee resting between parted thighs. He watched in rapt attention as Theodore reached up, dragging his tongue along an open palm, his lips pulled into a wicked grin as fingers dipped into his mouth suggestively. Draco’s pulse pounded against his skin, as he stood there, transfixed and glued to the very spot by the other man. When those same fingers disappeared beneath Draco’s peripheral, an open-mouthed kiss effectively swallowed the soft whimper that threatened to spill out of his mouth. It didn’t take long, not really. A handful of frantic ministrations and a couple of clumsy maneuvers and one was taking the other; although Draco could not say who was who by that point.

Again the world seemed to come to a screeching halt all around him. Draco’s fingers curled into Theodore’s shoulders all white knuckles and pulsing veins and Theodore leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to the base of his throat that he could not suppress the strangled sigh that escaped him.  This was more than just a game. There was not a sound aside from panted breaths mirroring one another. He exhaled sharply, the intrusion on his body a steady jumble of pleasure and pain that he needed more of. Draco wound his legs around Theodore’s middle and forced him closer; willing him to move.  “I won’t break.” He murmured impatiently, eyes snapping open to gaze pointedly at the vision of Theodore draped in Draco’s skin. Something like understanding passed between them again and Theodore’s mouth curled back into that wicked grin that he had briefly lost in the intensity of the moment.  He pulled back experimentally, nearly to the point of separation, the gaze that was an odd mixture of Theodore’s and his own watching him as he sank back against him, a gritty sigh visibly shaking him.

It didn’t take long for a rhythm to swallow them up. Once Theodore decided that Draco could handle everything he was prepared to dish out, he didn’t hold back and he certainly did not disappoint. Their movements slowed and became more concentrated, twisting at Draco’s insides and effectively leaving him dangling somewhere between desperation and oblivion. He could openly see the gentleness that was inherently Theodore behind cold grey eyes not his own and he couldn’t help but smile, ragged and panting as it may have been. It struck Draco as funny that this entire thing started as and excuse to fuck in borrowed skin, and yet the meaning had managed to transcend that notion entirely. A breathy laugh escaped him and Theodore eyed him suspiciously between panting breaths.  _“What’s so funny?”_  Escaped Theodore’s mouth and Draco could only shake his head and pull the other close enough that their lips ghosted one another.  “Don’t stop.” Draco whispered and it was enough to cage them back in the moment that was running away from them faster than he could catch. Theodore steadied him and Draco clung to him and never wished to let go.

When they dropped to the floor of the bathroom there were no words for a long while. Draco watched himself panting and silently marveled at how well Theodore managed to look inside his skin. His knees scraped on broken glass and he winced but he did not move and inch. This might have been precisely what they had been suggesting when this idea was first born, but it certainly hadn’t played out like Draco had thought it would. If anything he had a new found appreciation; not only for himself, but for Theodore as well. Draco always knew it wasn’t easy being him, had even prided himself on the fact that very few people would be able to handle the responsibility. But To disappear inside another, even if only for the purpose of some kink-driven fantasy, was a truly humbling experience that Draco would not soon forget.

“Well, that fun.” He raised his head to grin at Theodore who was still looking very much like Draco and was amused when his copy managed a pretty convincing rendering of that same smirk.   _“What now? We’ve still got some time.”_ Theodore peered at Draco with Draco’s own eyes and he merely shrugged, slowly rising up out of the other’s lap and dusting off bits of broken glass.  Definitely a shower, and then maybe I’ll make some edits to your latest novel. I’m feeling extremely full of brooding writer at the moment.”  Draco caught his reflection in the mirror and was vaguely impressed with how hot Theodore looked with his own self-righteous air.  He turned and left the bathroom, smirking at the nervous shriek that followed.   _“Draco, don’t you dare touch my work!”_

 


End file.
